


Golden Boy

by S2_501



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Inspired by The Song of Achilles, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S2_501/pseuds/S2_501
Summary: What if the Golden demigod Achilles was reincarnated into the Harry Potter universe? What of Patroclus, Achilles' beloved? Who would he be?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 58
Kudos: 212





	1. Once

**Author's Note:**

> Guess whose heart is still in recovery because of TSOA?!?
> 
> So, I knew about Achilles from generic knowledge. Then I was introduced to Patroclus in my Mythology class, and it gave me _vibes_. These were confirmed in ' _The Song of Achilles_ ' and thus this piece of fiction was created. (Quite unsure if I should tag the TSOA fandom for this fic...)

Draco’s head bangs against the tile floors as a result of the curse. He grunts at the force and gasps for air. He hopes death is swift so that the pain inside and outside ceases.

A clammy hand grasps his own, startling him. His blurry eyes ( _is it blurry from my blood?_ He wonders) turn to the face of his executioner. Nothing is familiar to him but those _green_ eyes.

Together with the immense pain and the green, _green_ , _green_ , memories come to him.

He recalls a past of two boys growing up side by side. In fields of green; staring into eyes of green; waiting for figs to ripen from their green. One boy is slightly taller, the other leaner. They have a close bond formed with laughter, sweet as honey. Simple joys of juggling figs and caressing touches come to the front of his mind.

It’s the green eyes that brings the memories back. Of laughter and music echoing in a large room. Of how soft grass feels beneath their exposed thighs and how salty the sea tastes.

Draco coughs as he spits up red blood. The metallic taste is familiar. He remembers tasting it while a green-eyed hero clutches his body as his soul swiftly departs. It is not much different now, with _Potter_ ’s watery eyes staring down at him. It leaves a bittersweet tang and brings a tear to his eye as he considers the _wasted_ time. Blasted Fates!

Hands are combing through his hair. Oh, how ironic that the two of them have switched crowns. Regardless, the green and the dark brown suit Harry. Draco hears his constant apologies, _I didn’t know- I didn’t know!_ and wants nothing more than to comfort him in return, to soothe him of his guilt.

Fortunately, Snape rushes his way in and casts the spell to heal him. Draco fades away into darkness and eases into sleep. So deeply he sleeps, that he manages to forget all that he remembers of him and the green-eyed boy of generations before. 

Magic may have saved his mortal soul this time around, but the Fates cannot allow the memories to remain. After all, the boy lives with a known powerful Legilimens. It could bring ruin to what they have planned.

A prophecy has been foretold. A prophecy must be fulfilled.


	2. Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's a short chapter kind of day ^^

Green, green, green.

He sees them again a second time.

Now they are hidden behind swollen eyelids. He can recognise those eyes anywhere. One does not stare from across the room for years and not recognise them. He wishes he could shout and celebrate that Harry is alive and breathing! He cannot say anything about Harry’s health, for he is but a realist. Despite that, there is hope for them after all!

He does what little he can to aid Harry and his friends.

“I cannot be sure,” he says, wishing he could run to his mother’s side. Instead, he calmly stands up and walks as far away as he can from Harry's side. He doesn't miss the slight way Harry's shoulders relax once he finds out that Draco won't give them away.

His mother has become more aloof as the years progressed, choosing to ignore the screams and terror that surrounds their home. Screams often brought by his father’s hand. She used to be full of life and elegant, but now she is quiet and demure. Talks less, and stares into the clouds— as if hoping for better days, but not knowing how to find them.

Upon the Golden Trio’s escape, he, once more, sacrifices his body. He suffers _CRUCIO!_ after _CRUCIO!_ from an angry aunt.

The pain brings a return of the memories. He winces and twitches every now and again — aftershocks, Snape calls them when he next sees Draco. 

Lying in bed, he reminisces on the pure hate he saw in his family’s eyes. He knew his father hated him. For being a failure of a son, unable to accomplish the _simplest_ task of killing an old man. It seems that despite it being a new life, he still has a father who loathes him for being so _weak_.

He recovers and heals, slowly.

Over time, the memories are lost again.

Once more, the Fates allow him to live.


	3. Third time's a charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer one today! Hope you like it :)

The third time Draco reunited with the green eyes he has come to love — without really knowing why — is in the Room of Requirement.

He holds his mother’s wand tightly in his grasp, leaving it dangling at his side. He does not want to come across as threatening.

Harry searches Draco’s eyes as if to ask him, _why did you save me?_ But before he gets the chance, a heat so intense fills the massive room. Draco looks behind him and sees Vince struggling with his wand. Greg is nowhere to be seen. Draco and Harry run side by side and cast spell after spell to try and diminish the flames that are so close to kissing their heels.

Draco tumbles over an old journal and loses Harry. He gulps and surveys the room, trying to find an escape. Like lava, the ground is slowly being eaten by the _Fiendfyre_. He starts to climb.

For a third time, the memories return. It’s as if he needs the catalyst of being close to death to remember. His frustration grows, wondering why his memories are returning and leaving. Why he cannot keep them — wondrous as they are. Wondering why he was given the chance at another life with Harry, for it to be stolen before they can even acknowledge each other.

He reaches the top of a pile, noticing how fortunate he is that it’s the tallest of all piles. Sweat is dripping down his forehead, sliding down his temples and his palms are clammy. He struggles to grip on the vanity he climbs on top of. The flames are eagerly eating their way through the wood, seeking prey.

He hears the familiar woosh of a broom and turns to it. There he is swift on his broom, much like how he used to be when they raced around the fields. Draco was always one step behind — interesting how little has changed between them. Where Harry of the past thrived in combat, Harry of now was gifted in flight.

There is no hesitation when Draco grasps Harry’s outstretched hand. With effort, the two manage to sit Draco behind Harry. Draco, fearing this will be the last time he has the change to sit so close to Harry, leans forward and tucks his face between Harry’s shoulder blades. His hands naturally wrap around Harry’s waist.

The position is similar to how they sat sharing a horse during the rare times they were able to catch a break in the _before_. Draco inhales, and under the smells of burnt wood and sweat, he smells the familiar hint of sandalwood and a fruity scent that he just yet cannot place.

Upon exiting the room, the two land gracelessly onto the ground. Draco’s eyes open after landing and he turns to see the door close and return to stone. Smoke escapes before it seals shut and he gasps in relief.

Harry turns to Ron and Hermione who managed to escape faster since they were closer to the door. On Draco’s side, he seems to be the only one who managed to make it through. He takes a moment to reflect on the friends he lost to the room.

“You actually saved the git?” Weasley’s voice interrupts.

Draco leans his head against the wall and in between gasping, he quietly thanks Harry. He grips the wall with his left hand and uses it to steady himself to stand. He nods at the three and hesitates slightly. He wants to stay with Harry; to not lose him, and make sure he stays alive.

He shuffles on his feet, insecure about where he stands. A hand reaches out to him, covering the view of his shoes that he found so fascinating. He knows those hands, the callouses from hard labour, how they feel against his skin. He takes the hand and looks up into the _green green green_ and they share a small smile.

With that comes acceptance. He is welcomed into the fray and he follows them. He will follow Harry wherever he goes. Always.

He follows them to the shack. He witnesses his mentor killed by the snake. He helps collect the memory, seeing the recognition in Snape’s eyes as he does so. It seems it is not only him who had a past life with Harry. He is unsure, but somehow he is granted permission to follow Harry to the Headmaster’s office.

“Keep an eye on him, for me will you? Ron and I have one more thing to do,” Hermione says when she takes him to the side. She knows what Harry might be planning, but she doesn't want him to be alone. 

Draco is leaning against the guest seat when Harry emerges. His eyes are red and tears are flowing down his cheeks. Draco cannot be blamed for rushing to his side and cradling his head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

“I have to do it,” he whispers.

So much like the past. It seems there is no change, other than it will not be him dying first. No, in this life Harry is the one who will leave first. Draco hates it.

He wishes he never _knew_. He wishes he remained ignorant of the truth, of what _could have been_ …

“Is there no chance of convincing you otherwise?”

Harry rubs his forehead against Draco’s neck, “there’s a prophecy…”

Draco sucks in air and tightens his embrace around Harry. Damn those prophecies! 

“I cannot be alive if he is. It’s one or the other. I obviously don’t want to do this, but Riddle believes in it. So I must…”

If possible, Draco’s heart breaks another time. Did it even get the chance to heal from the last pain?

Curse the Fates! Draco closes his eyes and tangles his fingers through Harry’s hair. It’s as soft as he imagined. And once more, he hates the loss he and Harry have in this life.

“If you must go… go.”

He hates himself. But one does not hide from the Fates. He of all people knew that.

Harry’s face turns, it strikes Draco suddenly, that Harry is shorter in this life. _He_ ’s the clumsy one, who mumbles through his words. Draco feels his lips graze against his neck and he feels his face redden.

“I’m not sure why, but I have the sudden urge to—” Draco pauses. He leans away slightly and stares at Harry’s lips. Oh, how lucky he is! They have not changed much, apart from colour. No longer the rosy shade he currently owns, but a deeper red. Full and parting for _him_. “Kiss me,” Draco whispers, lips brushing against Harry’s.

It does not take much effort for the two to lean into each other. The sparks Draco used to feel return. There is a warmth creeping into his heart, as if glue, mending the breaks of past and present. His hand moves, without his accord, to grip Harry’s nape. Bringing him tighter, closer. He ignores the glasses pressing into his cheek. The only different sensation, but he can deal with it. He just wants to be as close to Harry as he can.

Harry tastes _divine_! Better than any honey he has ever consumed. Little moans come from them, though Draco isn’t too sure who from. Hands start to roam, and they quickly lose their breath. They part, and pant. Sharing the air between them. 

Harry’s green ( _the colour of long life. Oh please live long, Harry,_ Draco begs) eyes are squinted by how wide his smile is. He offers one more peck onto Draco’s lips before he backs away.

Now that they’re separate, it’s as if they sober up. The reality of what is happening outside returns. Draco grips Harry’s shirt and he begs, “you come back to me, Harry. You come back to me.”

Harry nods silently, quickly hugs Draco once more and heads out. Draco’s strength during the last few minutes gives way and he collapses against the guest chair. However, a familiar piece of wood is poking his hip.

He pulls out his Hawthorn wand. The one Harry grabbed from him months back. Draco covers his mouth and tears run free down his cheeks. He lost his mother’s wand in the Room of Requirement. But the fact that Harry is wandless means one thing.

He doesn’t intend to fight, or to come back to him.


	4. In Memoriam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to short chapters, I'm afraid.

Harry steps into the forest with a light heart. He trusts Hermione and Ron to continue to finish off the other Horcruxes once the one in him is gone. He is ready for death, he just hadn’t calculated one Draco Malfoy into his plans. Everything became jumbled in his mind when he felt the arms around his waist.

The jostling from the broom mimicked that of a horse, which was preposterous because when in this life did Harry ever get the chance to ride a horse? He never even had the chance to ride the donkeys that came to his school during fetes. So, why was he familiar with the sensation of balancing on a moving animal? And why did Draco’s arms trigger the memory?

Draco.

Who he promised to return to. Without really knowing why. He attributes it to adrenaline, a spur of the moment reaction.

Harry smiles bitterly and shakes his head. At least the two of them have one pleasant memory together.

He finds a clearing not too far from where Voldemort waits for him. He can hear the crazed cackling from Bellatrix. But he’s far enough that they can’t find him easily.

He takes out the golden snitch and opens it. The Resurrection Stone is released. He is greeted with familiar faces and his heart is warm. He startles when he sees Remus, but the peace in his face is enough.

Three figures, shorter than Harry, hunched the way they are, appear once his family is gone. They don’t say much to him, only muttering,

“ _There is always a choice_

 _Oh, golden-haired one._ ”

He dismisses them, not wanting to be distracted by his mission. They’re obviously not talking about him, with his hair as dark as the shadows that surround him.

He walks out to the clearing where Voldemort and his followers wait. Riddle is surprised to see Harry alone, but knowing what he does of the boy, it’s to be expected at this point.

“The boy who lived came to die!” He taunts, growing tall when he hears his followers cackle and jeer.

Mere seconds later, a bright flash of green light hits Harry on the chest.

Those standing close to Harry wonder why he smiles as he falls to the muddy grass. Why he seems so serene and calm when he should have been frightened.

But death is a friend of Harry’s.


	5. A conversation

Harry wakes up to a field. He is on top of a hill. Soft music plays in the background, a familiar tune that he cannot place. There are birds chirping sweetly as if it were spring.

He sits up and breathes in deeply. The air is pure and warm. Something settles in Harry and he feels safe, at home.

A cough to his left alerts him that he is not alone.

He turns his head around and is glad he is on the ground. The man before him is tall, strong and _glowing_. For a second, Harry believes he sees an angel, coming to collect him to the pearly gates.

The man is perfect. His tight curly hair is short and moves with the wind. He smiles down at Harry and moves so that Harry isn’t straining his neck any longer. He stares down at Harry for a few seconds before joining him on the grass. He rests his hands behind him, relaxes and sighs.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

This confuses Harry, he’s only seventeen. Surely seventeen years aren’t that long to an immortal being such as the angel before him.

“I am no angel,” he says. Tilting his head from side to side, as if cracking the bones. “Completely different belief system, I’m afraid.”

“Then… who are you?” Harry asks, finally finding his voice.

“I come by many names, but the most popular is Apollo.”

The name registers in Harry’s mind. He remembers learning about Apollo and his brothers and sisters back in year 5. He was smitten with the stories, filled with heroes and demigods who had courage. He never thought he’d meet one of the gods. He never thought he would wield magic!

Before Harry can ask him why _he’s_ greeting Harry, he speaks again. “I did you a great disservice in one of your past lives. Your soul was unable to rest and remained on the mortal plane for aeons before I got my chance.”

Reincarnation is a concept that Harry never considered before, but it is interesting to hear. He has more questions, but he knows Apollo has more to say. The questions could wait for later.

And what a story it is! The tale of Achilles and how he fought during the Trojan War. Apollo tells him of a man named Patroclus who was always beside Achilles. He calls them ‘star-crossed lovers’ who didn’t get the chance to live their happy end.

“It was Ancient Greece, they were lucky to have been together the way they were,” Apollo comments. “Despite that, Achilles died a hero but never accepted the glory that Elysian Fields has to offer. He chose to wait for Patroclus, whose death was never honoured.”

Harry’s heart broke for the two men.

“His soul remained on earth and reincarnated continuously… and there was no change. The two continued to meet and separate. That is until a new prophecy was made.”

Harry leans forward, eager to hear more.

“A boy, a half-blood, filled with magic quite different from the gods. He is said to defeat a dark threat that ravages Albion.”

“Wait, when you said _my_ past life… are you inferring that—”

“Yes, Harry. I am. You are Achilles.”

Frankly, Harry isn’t surprised at the revelation. He’s the Boy-Who-Lived, the saviour of the Wizarding world. What’s more, another title?

“If I am Achilles, then that leads for me to assume that Patroclus is living somewhere right?” Harry considers, crossing his arms together.

Apollo nods, “you always were a bright boy when necessary. Yes, Patroclus is somewhere down there. However–” here he hesitates slightly “–you may know him as Draco.”

With that revelation, Harry is bombarded with images. He sees two boys running around, they look completely different to how Harry and Draco look. Yet, the way they interact is similar. Draco did dislike Harry, much like Patroclus did in the beginning because of jealousy. Harry does watch Draco like Achilles watched Patroclus. It’s fascinating to see how they maintained their behaviours despite the change in time.

He suddenly remembers how Draco reacted to him in the Room of Requirement, even further, in his family Manor.

“Does he–” he grips the grass in tight fists, “does he remember?”

Apollo looks up and watches as a bird takes flight in the air. He nods quietly, and sighs. “He had moments of recollection, but we erased it from his mind to ensure Voldemort remains unaware. I am to understand that your magic offers telepathy?”

“That is true…”

Apollo stands up and brushes the invisible dust away from his chiton. “Now, begs the question, what will you do?”

Confused, Harry slowly starts to stand as well. The field around them transforms to the familiar Kings Cross station.

“You see, Achilles was given the choice to return home. However, he would not be granted the glory of a hero. Continue to fight and people will venerate him. He chose to continue and fight, and in doing so lost his _Philitatos_. What choice will you make, Harry?”

He could stay and be at peace. He could reunite with his family! He closes his eyes and can almost hear Sirius’ and his dad’s laughter. He can smell that flowery scent that he _knows_ his mum was fond of. And yet… there’s the chance to be with his other half. He doesn’t want to lose this opportunity.

“I want to go back. I have some things to make up for.”

Apollo smiles, “the thing that takes away the fun from being the god of prophecy is that I _knew_ you were going to say that. Go on, Harry, live your life with your beloved the way you should’ve.”

Harry takes a step away from Apollo and turns around.

 _Draco_.

 _I’m_ _coming_ _back_.

Harry wakes up and lays still. His body hasn’t moved since he fell. He hears footsteps walk toward him and sees the familiar face of Narcissa Malfoy. She notices his eyelids move and bends down.

“Is Draco alive?” She asks him quietly.

Nothing brings Harry more joy than to nod slightly and agree.

 _Draco is alive_.

 _As am I_.


	6. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and then we're done!! ^^

Draco sees Harry lifeless in Hagrid’s arms. His heartbreak is so profound, he can physically feel it. As if there are shards of glass piercing him in every direction. It’s not fair, he isn’t supposed to be the one left. That’s not... it's just not how it...

He collapses onto his knees and buries his face in his hands. He’s hidden away from the crowd, in the shadows. He cannot let them see him break down. He cannot appear weak in front of them. Even though that’s all he is. A weak, cowardly… _brokenhearted_ man.

He hears his father's calls for him. Draco looks up and realises that this could be one final opportunity to prove himself to the bastard. However, there is no point anymore. His reason for living is gone. All hope is lost, and the world will become a dark place that he’d rather perish in. No sense in living under the rule of a madman.

“Draco!” He calls again.

Draco clenches his hands into fists and grips his wand in his left hand. He is shaking, in fury and anguish. If he is to die, then he will die fighting.  _ Here, father. Here’s the courage you were looking for _ , he thinks.

“Come, son! Join us.” He opens up his arms as if he is suddenly a tender father.

Draco scoffs, “I would rather choke.”

His voice is but a murmur but in the silent atmosphere, he might as well be shouting.

“Excuse me?!” Lucius bellows, pointing his wand at his son.

Students gasp, surprised that a father dares threaten his son. But they don’t know Lucius as Draco does. This is something he does regularly. He doesn’t even flinch anymore.

Lucius casts a wordless hex and aims it at his son. It might have landed, but they didn’t account for a certain swift-footed hero. None of them did. Lucius loses his grip on his wand in surprise when he sees Harry run and pushes Draco to stand behind him.

It’s as if time stops. Ten seconds become ten minutes. During which Harry and Draco exchange a conversation that only people who grew up together would be able to have. Draco quickly hands Harry his wand back and grips his wrist tightly with his other hand.

“You live,” they say to each other at the same time causing them to let out a small laugh. Harry nods and Draco grips Harry’s hand in his. “And come back to me,” Draco finishes.

No longer facing each other, it’s as if the battle is no longer in a stalemate. Wandless, Draco retreats and avoids spells as best as he can. He scours the dead bodies and tries to find a body of a Death Eater. He takes the wand of one, feeling like it would taint his soul less than if he took an innocent’s wand away.

He hears Harry taunt Voldemort– Tom he calls him. Draco scoffs, with such a common name like Tom, it’s no wonder he called himself Lord Voldemort. He narrowly misses a hex cast to his shoulder in his distraction, but makes a quick comeback and battles the Death Eater.

A rumble makes his reflexes act and he casts a strong  _ Protego _ around him and the area. Once the dust clears, he realises that there were people around him. Red hair tells him that they are Weasleys.

One of the twins is gaping at him in surprise. Draco bows sarcastically and runs off to find other Death Eaters and dark creatures to fight.

Here’s where he’ll be different from his past life. He’s willing to fight.


	7. Finis

There, leaning against what used to be one of the walls in the courtyard, sit two young men. Both their hair have traces of debris, and their cheeks are caked with dust. They stink of sweat and are uncomfortably hot in their clothes. The sun that was hidden behind dark clouds has come out and shines into their eyes.

Despite this, they do not care. Their eyes are light and bright. Their smiles warm and for each other.

Harry pulls Draco into his lap and holds him tightly. They sit in silence, comfortable in each other’s presence. After a while, Harry looks over Draco’s shoulder and pries his hands open so he can trace his palm. He focuses at a particular break in the lifeline, where it starts again just a few millimetres to the right. He turns his palm up and compares the two side by side. Their lifelines are exactly the same; breaking only to continue.

It is with the gentle breeze that brings Harry peace that gives him the courage to talk.

Confident now that Draco knows, he says whatever he wants when referring to their past life.

He lets go of Draco’s hand and starts to card his fingers through Draco’s hair, smiling when he pulls out a leaf. He gets a sound that he can only describe as being a purr — if humans could purr, that is.

“Did the Fates believe that by changing your colouring I wouldn’t be able to recognise you?” Harry muses. “I mean, yeah we forgot each other… but there was still something that drew me toward you.”

Draco hums in reply, content with the affection Harry shows him. He turns his head so he can see the sparkling laurel leaf green eyes. Once Harry starts talking again, all he can do is focus on his mouth. 

“My beloved, the way your mouth curls into that grin I love, how your eyes sparkle when you have a sudden eureka moment... Gods even the way you hated me before even knowing me properly.” Harry shakes his head, “now that the veil is lifted from our eyes, it makes me wonder how we missed how obsessed we were with each other. I called you my _arch-nemesis_ when I had a Dark Lord after me, for goodness sake!”

Draco laughs, that wondrous laugh Harry used to hate loving (without knowing why hearing it made him so _warm_ inside), “they gave me your golden crown and wealth. Yet, you still remain our _Golden_ Boy.”

Harry nuzzles his face into Draco’s neck, breaking their stare and breathes in the scent that reminds him of hills and caves and streams. “Fools the lot of them,” he says, straightening himself to look into Draco’s pale eyes.

The Fates tried to wash him out, making it seem as if he could blend in with the crowd. Yet, doing so only called his attention to Draco more. He was just so _bright_.

“Fools.” Draco mimics, his eyes tracing Harry’s lips.

“Nothing can tear us apart now.”

Draco smiles and leans into Harry, sighing when his arms tighten around him. “Besides,” he starts, “I’m a better blond than you.” He closes his eyes and joins in when he feels Harry’s chest rumble with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I _might_ one day revisit this plot and expand on it further, but we'll see ;)


End file.
